


Of the Start and the End

by DarkoftheBlueMoon7



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, BAMF Scott, BAMF Stiles, Because of Reasons, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, F/F, F/M, Fuck Canon, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Major Character Death (temporary), Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Bromance, Scott is a Good Friend, Scott positive fic, Time Travel Fix-It, True Alpha Scott McCall, self-indulgent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 05:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7832857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkoftheBlueMoon7/pseuds/DarkoftheBlueMoon7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With most of his pack dead or worse, Stiles risks everything on a desperate plan.  Now a 16 year old with the memories of a war-weary emissary, he has to dodge shady druids while facing past enemies and future allies fighting on the wrong side as he tries to figure out how to change the past for a better future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of the Start and the End

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Satan (Jeff Davis) owns Teen Wolf. So anything you recognize in not mine. Also don’t post this fic on Good Reads or similar site.

 

 

*~*~*~

To get a dream of life again

A little vision of the start and the end

But all the choirs in my head sang no.

- _Breath Of Life_ by Florence + The Machine

 

*~*~*~

 

As he died atop the nemeton, his blood soaking deep into the roots, he dreamed.  Visions played across the screen of his mind like an unraveling movie film through a vintage projector, images so out of sync with the audio track that everything was a confusion of sight and sound.

 

_“It’s called Bardo.  The state between life and death.”_

Eyes glowing in the darkness, Peter calmly wiped the blood from his hands.

 

_“You’re the one who always figures it out.”_

 

Void was wearing Stiles’ face, eyes glittering with a malevolent and gleeful hunger.

 

_“It’s never just a single moment; it’s a confluence of events.”_

 

Kira’s aura swirled around her like living armor, her sword glinting deadly in the light.

_“I guess that makes me lucky because I don’t have any one.”_

 

Derek with his head in his hands, sorrow and guilt and pain etched into every inch of him. 

 

_“Be your own anchor.”_

 

Mason’s eyes were wide with fear, red blood and black ichor splattered over his face.

 

_“I would have told you but we’re not actually friends.”_

 

Erica’s cold, lifeless body cradled so gently in Derek’s arms.

 

_“We’re predators but we don’t have to be killers.”_

 

Jackson’s skin was partly covered with green-black scales.

 

_“You make a good Batman.”_

 

Sheriff Stilinski was a pale as death, a gun held in his shaking hand.

 

_“I’m going to make your best friend kill you.”_

 

Chris’ face was a mask of grief and pain as he fires his gun again and again.

 

_“There’s no such thing as fate.”_

 

Isaac’s eyes flashed gold as he ducked beneath a blow.

 

_“I would destroy every shred of evidence to protect you if I had to.”_

Golden eyes shifted to blue as Liam howled his grief, blood dripping from his claws.

 

_“Liam said pain…  He said it makes you human.”_

 

Boyd’s face was strangely calm as he bled out, impaled on Derek’s claws.

_“We’re supposed to take care of each other.”_

 

As living flames swirled around him, Parrish’s eyes glowed like coals.

 

_“How are you all still alive?”_

 

Shaking his head, Deaton’s eyes were dark with guilt and regret.

 

_“That’s a lot of burden to carry.”_

Melissa was calm yet deeply shaken as she pressed her hands over the wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.

 

“ _Life is energy.  Energy doesn’t just disappear.”_

 

Allison’s bright red blood bubbled from her lips.

 

_“Everything is happening so fast.  Everything is just so...ephemeral.”_

 

Tears tracked down her face as Lydia’s mouth opened wide in a wailing scream.

_“I think you’re going to just have to take me with you.”_

 

….Silver arrowheads smeared with blood… a Sheriff’s badge bent at the edges…

 

_“Not without you.”_

….A cracked obsidian shuriken…a broken watch…Werewolf claws… A braid of strawberry blond hair….

 

_“I can’t do this alone.”_

 

…Scattered petals of yellow and purple wolfsbane…Mountain ash glittering darkly in the moonlight…

 

_“You’re not alone.”_

 

…Stiles gasped for breath and inhales hot blood as the light fades from his eyes, his throat a red ruin….

 

_“You have me.”_

 

…Tears trickled down Scott’s face as his eyes change from searing red to brilliant blue and the world slips way into darkness….

_“I had you before.”_

…Fireflies dancing around the nemeton, the whorls of the rings pulsating in a strange dark rainbow of colors…

 

_“You still got me.”_

 

Stiles awoke, gasping for breath, his hands flying to this throat and feeling nothing but smooth undamaged skin that ached with the memory of sharp claws.  Blinking up at the night sky as the swirling memories settled into place, his brain felt raw and painfully swollen as the world snapped painfully back into focus.

 

He had to find Scott.

 

Slowly he sat up, a shiver racking his body, the chilly night air and the damp ground had leeched the heat away from his body.  He felt so weak, drained, his muscles were stiff and limbs were awkward as if the bones weren’t quite solid and everything just felt wrong, wrong, wrong.  But he had to get up, he had to find Scott and get him out of the Preserve before Peter found them.

 

“Scott?”  He called out, his own voice sounding thin and strange to his ears.

 

“Stiles?”  The answer was more of a groan.  A few feet away lay Scott curled up on his side. 

 

Heart pounding in his head, Stiles scrambled on his hands and knees over his Scott’s huddled form, instinctively searching for injuries, “Scott?  Are you okay?”

 

“Stiles?”  Scott’s voice was breathless and rough as he uncurled and stared at Stiles.

 

In the pale light of the waxing moon, Stiles could clearly see the fluffy sable hair and big dark eyes blinking at him in confusion like a punch to Stiles’ gut.  This was the Scott from before -whole and undamaged, soft and warm and alive in a way that made Stiles’ eyes burn with unshed tears.  Swallowing thickly, he tried to sound normal but failed miserably, “You were completely and totally right, this is stupid and we need to get back to the jeep _right now_.”

 

That wonderful warm glow in his chest of _‘It worked! Scott’s alive!’_ was collapsing into a hard icy rock in the pit of his stomach as he looked around the shadow drenched woods and realized he had no fucking clue where in the Preserve they were or what direction go, “uh…  Do you remember which way the jeep is?”

 

“The jeep?”  Scott repeated sounding distracted and confused as he continued to stare at Stiles.

 

“Are you okay?” Stiles looked at him closely, fondling in his pocket for the flashlight he remembered having to check for head injuries.

 

Scott blinked at the light and shook his head as if throwing something off, the confusion seeming to clear as he shakily got to his feet pulling Stiles up with him, “I think the jeep is this way?  We should run into one of the trails or the main road and follow that back to the jeep.”

 

“Sounds like plan.”

 

Stiles fell into step next to Scott, close enough to brush against him with each step, scanning the surrounding woods looking for the lights of the search party and seeing nothing but dark, unfamiliar woods as he swept the beam of light over roots and fallen tree branches.  Part of Stiles wanted to turn the flashlight off as the light would act as a beacon in the darkness for Peter.  But neither of them had werewolf night vision and there was a good chance that one of them would trip and break something before their eyes could adjust to the dim light of them. 

 

Plus trying to explain to Scott _why_ would be awkward to say the least.

 

Instead Stiles tentatively stretched his senses to find the Nemeton and use the stump’s location to orient himself to either find the search party or his jeep.  An intense pain that lanced from temple to temple made him gasp.

 

“What?”  Scott stopped sharply, grabbing his wrist and scanning the woods for a threat.

 

“Ah… nothing, I stepped wrong.” Stiles lied as he surreptitiously rubbed his temple.  That had hurt like a bitch. A psychic check on his reserves revealed what he already suspected: his spark had been drained into the red; it would most likely be days before he was back up to full strength. 

 

Scott study him for a moment, clearly not believing him but only said, “Be careful.”

 

Continuing in their chosen direction, Stiles failed to find any sort of landmark to orient himself as the Preserve had changed from what he remembered.  Clouds had rolled in, not thick enough to block out the moonlight completely but enough that he couldn’t use the stars as a guide.  Nerves winding tighter and tighter as the search party or the main road failed to appear and the persistent fear of running into Peter, he failed to notice how quietly the two of them were walking for a pair of teenagers wandering in the woods or that every once in a while Scott tip his head back minutely as if he was trying to catch a scent.

 

A single howl shattered the night, one that was too close for comfort.

 

All the hair on the back of Stiles neck stood up as an instinctive chill went down his spine, _‘Fuck!’_

 

That was Peter.  There was no one else could be. 

 

At some unspoken signal, the both of them began to move quickly through the woods at a pace that was not quite running.  Flashlight or not, running around the dark made it easier to trip over a hidden branch or root and break or sprain something.  Until they actually knew _where_ Peter was, running would do nothing but exhausted them, making them easier prey if (when) the crazed Alpha caught up to them. 

 

As he tied to adjust his new (old) body to quick pace, a soft sound caught the edge of his attention, a gasping wheeze that was at once painfully familiar and yet half forgotten that he could only place it when Scott started to lag as it had been (years?) since he heard that particular sound.

 

“C’mon, Scott _come on_.”  Stiles tried to encourage Scott, pulling him along to the point he was almost dragging him at the same time he was digging in Scott’s pockets to try and find the inhaler. 

 

“I’m _trying_.”  Scott gasped painfully as he found and then dropped his inhaler because of course he did.

 

Both of them reached for it and only succeeded in becoming tangled in each other as they fell to the ground.  Untangling themselves quickly both of them were on their knees scrambling in the darkness, instinctively staying close enough for their shoulders to bump as they tried to find the lost inhaler.

 

 “C’mon, C’mon, where the fuck is it?” Stiles muttered as he scanned the dead leaves with the flashlight, listening to Scott’s whistling breathing as he fought to drag air in and out of his lungs.   _‘Please don’t be broken, please, please don’t be broken.’_   He prayed as adrenaline began pumping through him as he realized they were essentially lost inside the Preserve and it could be hours before they were found if he called 911.  Scott could die and everything Stiles had done, had risked, all of that would be for **_nothing_**.

 

Thankfully he found the inhaler intact and pressed it into Scott’s shaking hand.  Stiles didn’t rush him as Scott took several hits off his inhaler and tried to get his breath back.  Instead, Stiles gripped a corner Scott’s hoodie and scanned the woods around them seeing nothing but shadows. 

 

He jumped as Peter’s howled echoed through the woods once again, way too fucking close.  _‘Damn, damn, damn!’_ Peter had caught their scent and high on Alpha power he was driven to hunt.  Grinding his teeth against the pain, Stiles stretched his senses out to look for the nemeton.  The root cellar _should_ still be intact enough to hide in until morning or until Peter gave up. 

 

 _There_.  The nemeton was weak now, its power glowing sullenly like a dying ember.  With the direction in mind Stiles slung one of Scott’s arms over his shoulders and stood, dragging his best friend to his feet and the two of them were moving again, stumbling through the woods towards the nemeton and hopefully safety-

 

The heavy thudding hooves of something very big and very fast crashed through the underbrush, heading in their direction.

 

It sounded like….

 

                       Like……

 

Instinctively he threw himself to the ground dragging Scott with him, covering his eyes with his hand and he squeezed his own close, shaking in cold panic as if he had been plunged into a sea of ice.  If they didn’t look, the Riders would go pass, would ignore them and go on, wouldn’t take them.

 

The hoof beats came louder, louder as he braced himself to be trampled, his own heartbeat roaring in his ears-

_-the pommel digging into his stomach, the creak of leather, the whinny of the horses, the odor of damp earth, of smoke and sulfur like hundreds of matches had been lit and blown out all at once-_

 

-a loud animal bellow that sounded nothing like a horse snapped him out of his memories. The first panicked deer come bounding through heavy brush passing so close that one of the hooves stuck his side hard enough to bruise and everything was chaos and noise as the herd followed their leader. 

 

Then as quickly as it had started, the stampede was over. 

 

Cold sweat trickled down his back as Stiles slowly uncurled from his protective position with Scott, feeling black and blue but nothing felt broken, ‘ _Get your shit together.’_   The Riders weren’t here, weren’t in Beacon Hills.  He had to remember that.  

 

Scott’s breathing was harsh and his hands were shaking gripping Stiles, “You okay?”

 

 “Yeah.  I’m great.” Stiles’ voice trembled more than he liked.  “You?”

 

“Yeah-Shit!”

 

The moonlight washed out all colors but he could see something pale against the dark leaves.  A hand.  A hand smeared with blood that was attached to a girl.  A naked girl ending in a dark mass of guts-Stiles swallowed thickly as the pungent odor of blood and spilled entrails hit his nose- dark rings of teeth marks and long raking wounds marred pale skin, with wide staring eyes and open mouth. 

 

Though he had only seen her in police photographs and at the bottom a freshly dug grave, he knew exactly who she was-

 

“Laura.” Scott said softly.

 

“ ** _What?_** ”  Stiles blurted out, completely caught by surprise.

 

Before Scott could answer, a nearby branch snapped with a crack loud as a gunshot and there was a sudden and absolute silence with only the sound of their breathing.  An icy chill went down his spine at soft crackle of dry leaves as if they were being stepped upon.  Behind them there was a crackle of brush and a soft low growl. 

 

There with the moonlight dappling his black fur and eyes glowing red was Peter, the mingling of man and a wolf all twisted out of proportion into something monstrous and strangely so much _smaller_ than he remembered (but then compared to the Beast, _Berserkers_ looked tiny) if no less intimidating as he prowled forward. 

 

Oddly, Peter didn’t seem too interested in them; instead he went over to Laura’s body and made a sound, low and mournful and heartbreaking.  Making zero sense because Peter had lured her back to Beacon Hills for the purpose of killing her for the Alpha Power and then he mutilated her corpse so that Hunters would be the top suspects.  The Peter he remembered had never seem to regret killing his niece but this…this showed remorse. 

 

Stiles decided at that moment he didn’t care, that he would figure it out later when Scott was safe- 

 

He nearly jumped out of his skin with Scott’s hand grabbed his, just managing to keep from yelping in fear.  Scott held a finger to his lips and gestured.  Stiles nodded his agreement and the both slowly got to their feet and started backing away as one from the preoccupied Peter. 

 

Eyes locked on the wolf, so focused on putting put some distance between them and the insane Alpha that Stiles wasn’t paying attention to his surrounding so the ground suddenly dropping out from underneath his feet was a complete surprise.  He got a brief glimpse of the nearly full moon through the bare branches and cloud cover as he rolled backwards head over heels losing his grip of Scott’s hand.  When he finally stopped rolling, he found himself flat on the ground with a mouth full of dirt.  Joy.

 

Stiles opened his eyes and spat out dirt, “Scott?  Are you okay?”

 

Scott groaned nearby. “Yeah…damn it.  My ankle, I..I think I twisted it.”

 

Biting back a groan as his bruised body protested, he got to his feet and hobbled over to Scott.  The pines were blocking what little light got through the clouds, so it was much darker down here and the flashlight was long gone.  He checked the ankle as best he could using his fingers and determined that while badly sprained it thankfully wasn’t broken. “Can you walk?”

 

Scott answered but Stiles missed what he said as he heard the crunch of leaves and saw the red glow of Peter’s eyes in the deep shadows as he made his way down the steep hill.

 

Even with Stiles’ help there was no way Scott could outrun Peter on that ankle so instead he looked around for a fallen branch, something manageable and heavy he could use as a weapon a flimsy plan forming in his mind.  He spotted a club-size branch nearby and slowly reached for it, eyes still locked on Peter.  This was it, the moment that would decide everything.  He knew the moment he stood that the Alpha would be on him but he could give Scott the chance to run… “Scott when I tell you to run, okay? Go find my dad.” 

 

“No,” Scott’s told him, his voice rough with pain. “Not without you!”

 

Heart pounding and mouth dry as those baleful red eyes locked onto his; Stiles tighten his grip on the tree branch and got to his feet, shouting, “ _Run!”_

 

The werewolves leapt at the shout, snarling mouth wide open moonlight gleaming off his sharp teeth. Stiles swung the branch with everything he had and connected but his aim was off, striking Peter in the shoulder rather than his head and the painful rebound knocked the branch from Stiles’ hands. 

 

The huge werewolf slammed painfully into him, jagged lines a fiery pain blossomed over his sides and arms as his jacket and shirt were shredded under Peter’s claws as he was pinned under the werewolf’s heavyweight.  Growls filling his ears and the wolf’s hot, fetid breath on his face as Stiles instinctively put his arm up to protect himself, screaming as Peter latched onto his wrist.  Desperate to make Peter let him go, Stiles punched the werewolf’s ear as hard as he could with his free hand, knowing how sensitive it was. Peter grunted in pain and Stiles felt his grip loosened-

 

 “Stiles!”

 

 ** _CRACK!_**  

 

He screamed again at the white hot pain as sharp teeth dragged over is skin as Peter let go.  There was Scott with a thick branch in his hands, ready to swing again. 

 

“No!”  Stiles tried to yell a warning as he felt Peter’s muscles tense and he tried to grab the wolf, stall him, something, but Peter was too strong and all he ended up with was a clump of hairs in his hand as the Alpha leapt and tackled Scott.

 

Scott’s screams echoed in darkness, a sound that would haunt Stiles’ nightmares.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
> 
> So here it is, a teen wolf fic. Better late than never I suppose. Unbetaed, so sorry for all the spelling mistake and all.
> 
> How the hell do people outline their stories? Every tutorial I’ve found is like: Beginning-middle-end, rising action-falling action, characterization, research, sell your soul to the dark god or goddess of your choice, ta-da you have an outline. I don’t know, selling your soul for one outline seems pretty steep you know? And there are so many dark god/desses to choose from, how you know which one is right for you?
> 
> Anyways, I hope you’ve enjoyed the first chapter. The next chapter will be longer. Maybe. Hopefully.
> 
> (Truthfully I have no idea what I’m doing.)


End file.
